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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE BETROTHAL 



A TO EM 



BY 



/ 

MARTHA BALDWIN ENSIGN 



35 






NEW YORK 

PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 

1890 



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Copyright, 1890, by 
M. B. ENSIGN. 



Press of J. J. Little & Co., 
Aster Place, New York. 



DEDICATORY. 

I DEDICATE this Poem, unreservedly, to whosoever herein finds 
the most of meaning. 

M. B. Ensign. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Prolusion 7 

Part I it 

Part II 17 

Part III 33 

Part IV 41 



Part V 



59 



Conclusion 64 

Colophon 69 



PROLUSION. 

Exacting world : Having balanced 

My accounts all with Thee ; 

Having o'erpaid Thee (in the coin 

With which Thou'st dealt with me), 

I do betake me now from hence, 

To more congenial Task : 

I hie me to this sheltered nook — 

And fling aside the mask 

Which so transformeth Sons of God, 

When mouthing with mean men ; 

I wonder how the Infinite 

His own can tell again. 

I would, this vast created World 

Might once whirl from its course — 

Infinitesimal small worlds 

Might upspring, from the source 

Of its chaotic state : that man 

In solitude might stand 

Solely Inhabitant of One, 

Wide Universe — unscanned 

His daily goings all by men. 

Of women, 't might be well 

To add a solitary She 

(Unless, indeed, a Hell 

Her putting should prove finally 

As did historic Eve's) : 

Then, it were better man should rove 

In solitude. Alack ! 



PROLUSION. 

Too many Bodies crowd the space 
To Spirits allotted — 
Since the creation — and the race 
Becometh besotted ! 

Having my vengeance duly sworn 
Upon all men, for being Born, 
I thus proceed — the choice to take 
Of subjects — out of which to make 
A scene Tragedic. 

Withstanding the extraordinaire 
Exordiums, I'm wont to hear 
From publishers on "genius"; 
Resisting these heart-felt ? appeals — 
Beneath which self-int'rest conceals 
Desire for gains pecunious — 

I'm bound to quit the noisy crew, 
Apply my soul to Truth anew, 
Wheresoe'er I can hear it ; 
By Voices whisp'ring thro' the air — 
By streamlet, river, everywjiere — 
Doth speak me, the Time-Spirit. 

Infinite One ! Most happy I, 
My little genius to apply 
As medium ! Do Thou, then 
Control the pen — inspire thought; 
Unclothed by Thy Afflatus naught 
Beneficent bring I — men. 

Make me the humble messenger, 
Unto the Sons of Men to bear 
News of a glad new morning, 
Millennial in its Prophecy, 
When Truth o'er all the world shall be 
Triumphant as its Dawning ! 



PROLUSION. 

Uplift the fallen Sons of Toil— 

From strife, from sorrow, mean turmoil, 

And Sin's relentless bondage ; 

Break but the pond'rous, clanking chains. 

Fast forged by Error : Let Hell's pains 

Diminish— claim Thy her'tage ! 

Control, O Spirit I Guide the stroke ! 
My pen is Thine ! I Thee invoke ! 
Speak not in unknown language ; 
Lest they who otherwise might hear 
Perceive not truth—" have not an ear " 
T'interpret— and take umbrage. 

Love, love's the theme ; and none so low 
He may not comprehend, I know. 
This word so sweetly mystic ; 
The queenly grace of Sov'reignty 
No higher here, may rise, than she— 
Her most menial Domestic. 



THE BETROTHAL 



PART I. 

I HAVE written many Poems — now I'll write one of my own ; 
I have sung of many Heroes — now I'll sing of one alone. 

I have woven many fancies, and some facts, v/ith poet art — 
Biographical heart-sketches — now I'll write my own in part. 

Born within a quiet rect'ry, nourished by a pious pair, 
Through a strange, fanciful childhood I had passed without a 
care ; 

Reached the age of thirteen summers, with nothing of marked 

event 
In my life — save a few heart-scars, made by arrows Cupid sent. 

Then a change came o'er my dreaming ; all my life, till then 

unplanned, 
Drifted into Language, Science — authors and their works were 

scanned. 

Books of Romance and of Travel — chiefly books of Poesy : 
Milton — Pollok— Dante — Shakespeare — then I first learned to 
love thee. 

How those grand old master-poets touched the fountains of 

my soul ! 
How they stirred the floods of feeling — long up-pent— beyond 

control. 



12 THE BETROTHAL. 

As I live again those moments, when ye opened first to me 
That vast realm ot Thought, expression fails to render unto 
thee. 

O my poets ! O my authors ! all the homage that I feel ! 
Though long dead, yet ye are living — living in my spirit still ! 

Having studied 'neath the tut'lage of a wise parental eye, 
I, at last, to enter college, left the quiet rectory. 

those days of toilsome labor ! O those problems, knotty, dark ! 
Must a character be rounded by a round of odious work ? 

1 had climbed the Hill of Knowledge until dizzy with the height, 
And, one hazy June Commencement, reached the summit of 

the flight. 

I was one of twenty-seven who had tarried for four years 
Cramming Horace, Homer, Livy, till surfeited with ideas. 

Such a medley of book v/isdom as into our minds was stored 
Socrates might well have envied — Plato could not have ignored. 

We could calculate eclipses — from astronomical hall : 
Calculus and analytics — we had quite digested all. 

Then the chemical department : We had tested all the ways 
Of precipitating fluids into solids — and could haze 

Freshmen — cultivate and pony (if the subject chanced to be 
Mathematics, which, be certain, were abominable to me). 

College life and college customs — how they linger with me yet. 
All those mem'ries: some are painful, still I would not those 
forget. 

In addition to the subjects I had passed up in — the art 
Of that oX\\Q.x divine passion — I had mastered it by heart. 

He my Romeo, was simply Ward Dumond — and yet, — and yet 
He was no less cavalier to a loyal true Janet. 



THE BETROTHAL. 13 

He had ne'er by word or signal spoken unto me of love, 

Yet his glances — mute caresses — did a deeper meaning prove. 

I had marked the swift uplifting of his lids at my approach, 
Then, as suddenly, their drooping, lest my tho't his own en- 
croach. 

Later I had read the meaning which his deepest soul contained. 
In those eyes, when power of screening it to him no more 
remained. 

In that language which, though silent, speaks with truth 

eloquently 
To my soul, his own had spoken — had been understood by me. 

In those moments of deep feeling — then each heart revealed to 

each 
What could never have been uttered in weak words of human 

speech. 

All the deeper founts of feeling in my life and being stirred, 
Something in his tone revealing better hopes than mine — his 
word 

Roused within my soul ambitions I had never known before — 
Somehow all the dreams and fancies of my youth returned 
once more. 

I enshrined him as the hero of my early high ideals — 

And I crowned him, too, with honor, which a noble life reveals. 

Strangely as our ways had blended, stranger yet — they must 
diverge. 

All those deep unuttered feelings, how they still within up- 
surge. 

Without e'en a word of sadness, which his list'ning ear could 

tell— 
With a heart oppressed to madness, calmly uttered I farewell. 



14 THE BETROTHAL. 

For he gave no explanation — save— a hasty telegram 
Called him unto her whose bridegroom, in a fortnight, he 
became. 

Yes, a single word he uttered — as my eyes upturned to his. 
With a calm as deep and deadly as the grave. That word 
was this : 

" Hope, Janet " — for what, I know not. Was it honor which 

refrained 
Him from saying — hope that heaven may unite us ? What 

remained. 

In a hopeless life, to hope for, I could not, nor can I see 
Save the hope that death might cover — e'en my pain — in 
charity. 

Thus he left me — loved and loving — he was bound now, past 

control ; 
"Although vows" — he slowly uttered — "cannot change the 
human soul ! " 

Ah ! thou worse than word deceiver, thou hast been untrue 

to truth ! 
Thou hast lost one boon forever — thou hast perjured age and 

youth ! 

Dost thou think to wed a woman who has ne'er beheld thy 

heart ? 
Who responds but to the human — and but claims thy baser 

part ? 

Ah ! too well I feel thy spirit hath its holier, deeper need ; 
Nor will be content — I know it— with a cold, material creed. 

It were well these things to ponder — is it not a law sublime, 
He who crushes soul-life under must regret throughout all 
time ? 



THE BETROTHAL. 15 

Thou hast spoken well in saying — " Vows ne'er change a 

human soul ; " 
What exists no mortal weighing — nor analysis control. 

Neither that which ne'er existed canst thou ever hope to wake 
In the bosom of another — who might strive — e'en for thy sake. 

Nor canst thou plead lack of knowledge : When it has become 

too late 
'Twere a weakly want of courage to ascribe all things to Fate. 

Fate was plastic to thy moulding, thou couldst all or nothing 

take ; 
But, remember, v/hen beholding all — 'twas thine the choice to 

make. 

When once made, curse not the moment which hath bound 

thee to thy lot — 
It were better — having chosen — power of choosing be forgot. 

Ah ! I fear thou'rt sadly human. Dost thou fancy such low art 
E'er could prove a panacea to the wounds that hurt the heart .? 

Bound by such relentless fetters, thou wilt sadly chafe and pine ; 
Petty cares and sordid passions will insure thy swift decline. 

Cursed be the fate which severs hearts that know but love 

and trust ; 
Cursed be the laws that barter honest gold for common dust ! 

Ah ! the weary, weary burdens, which the hearts of women 

bear : 
'Tis their fate — in silence waiting Death, to free them from 

despair. 

But, who e'er knew Death obedient unto a human behest ? 
Court this monarch — he refuses to become a welcome guest. 

Dread him, and, forsooth ! he enters suddenly without delay. 
Like some uninvited stranger who persists in right of way. 



1 6 THE BETROTHAL. 

Death came not. Another spirit might have yielded to decline ; 
But I summoned pride, ambition — better be it said of mine : 

" Here's a heart that loved — and, loving, proved its sacrificial 

power." 
I would live for others only — a7id for Art, hence, from this 

hour. 

This should be the sacred moment in my life's heart history ; 
When the Rubicon I ventured — mark a new era for me. 



PART II. 

At first I ventured cautiously to wield the author's magic quill ; 
I wrote that which propriety seemed to dictate me — and still 

I found no special line of labor which my talents fitted. 
To journalism— Poesy was all of worth I contributed. 

I had merely painted pictures, with my paper, ink, and pen — 
True they were to thought — but lifeless — I must toil and paint 
again. 

Then I flung aside the portiere which had screened me hereto- 
fore, 
And upon the spotless pages all my inner life did pour. 

Now my work no more was labor, magic seemed to guide the 

stroke ; 
Countless thoughts came into being — if I did but one invoke. 

All the passion of my childhood — for romance, imagery, 
Which in discipline and study I had thought quite swept 
away — 

Poured its flood-tide now about me — filled me with a sacred 

awe ; 
For, within this realm of fancy, characters too real I saw. 

Though the soul be filled with music, and the heart with melody, 
Some skilled hand must smite the lyre ere the sweet strains 
are set free. 



1 8 THE BETROTHAL. 

Mine — the hand of Sorrow's angel had unpityingly swept, 
And, responsive to her bidding, all its minor tones up-leapt. 

'Twas as if some distant pealing of a lonely convent bell 
Tolled the quiet hour of vesper, and the sisters' woes as w^ell : 

'Twas as if some lonely pilgrim, knelt upon a foreign shore, 
Chanted his death-dirge — then, dying, slept the sleep that wakes 
no more. 

Well — the poorest, humblest critic, and the meanest judge of 

art 
Can detect an imitation from a poem of the heart. 

So, altho' with trepidation I had striven to analyze 
And delineate my heroes — their debut proved a surprise. 

All the critics now applauded : * This is masterly,' they said ; 
'It were long since such great genius to such intellect were 
M^ed.' 

Thus, despite all styles and metres which I had profusely read, 
They had failed — they were but soulless — triith had triumphed 
in their stead. 

There are gains for all our losses, as, in truth, one must record 
That, for all our gains, a seeming loss — tho' greater the reward. 

If a life obscure in purpose hath no great and rigid claims, 
Then, as surely, doth another which is open in its aims 

Find the law of compensation in publicity — nor holds 
Not an hour, or a moment, which it rightfully controls. 

What the world giveth unto men, it demands a hundred-fold ; 
In return for public favor — many a man his birthright sold. 

Thus within these years of toiling upward toward the temple 

Fame 
I had lost my precious hours of solitude — for but a name. 



THE BETROTHAL, 19 

Just a name, which yielded nothing but a round of social life 
Which, in following, forever seemed a mockery — a strife. 

But as sunset, warm and mellow, paints sky canvass in the west, 
After gray, ungilded dawning — so my life sought change and 
rest; 

Sought at last its native quiet, in a remote sea-port town : 
The Hotels were quaint old Mansions ; its one promenade was 
down 

To the sea-shore, where the sobbing of the tide's dull, cease- 
less roll 
Blended with the sadder moaning and the longing in my soul. 

It may be a soul turns God-ward when all other resource 

fails, 
But it reaches toward the human still, and for the human 

wails ; 

May be that the eye Omniscient, pityingly, our grief beholds, 
Soothes our tired, weary spirits, and our loneliness infolds 

With a purer, better living, which we fail to understand ; 
Leads us beside quiet waters — in a calm and peaceful Land ; 

Gives to us a holier purpose ; fits us for the home above ; 
Then unto our chastened spirits gives a greater meed of 
Lo'/e. 



Scarcely, in this sea-port village, had I anchored fast my 

bark 
When a pair of dusty trav'lers came too ; one — no stranger — 

dark. 

With fine eyes, deep and expressive — eyes within whose soul- 

ful depths 
I had read my fate that morning — ere I heard it from his lips. 



20 THE BETROTHAL. 

She — the other — I had pictured her, mentally, many times, 
Peerless both in face and person — with a voice like low sweet 
chimes. 

Nor had I done over-justice to her portrait ; she was fair : 
Too fair, one would say, such fickleness upon her face to wear. 

" He who honestly a rival can adjudge " — I've heard it said — 
" Hath a great, generous nature " — be he single, be he wed : 

Be this truly said, or falsely, it is but truth if I say 

Ward Dumond's wife had no beauty — in an intellectual way. 

Hers was beauty of the features, of the face, the form — and yet 
Men who're styled most noble, classic, intellectual, forget 

Beauty of the Soul's immortal only, and, whene'er they wed. 
Are quite apt, I've often noted, physical t'admire instead. 

What a strange chance, this our meeting — what a strange 

fatality ; 
Ten long years had passed between us — years passed sadly, 

silently. 

I had heard but thrice about him since we went our diverse 

ways ; 
Heard he lived a life less useful than I'd thought, in early 

days, 

Ward Dumond could be content with : yet I learned, also, 

that he 
Was a great light in the city where he dwelt, and socially 

Much admired for his talents, for his nobleness of soul, 
Generosity, and kindness, for his charities to all. 

" Only those are crowned, and sainted " — thus the Poet truly 

sang— 
"Who with grief have been acquainted." And this cadence 

sweetly rang 



THE BETROTHAL, 21 

Through my soul with deeper meaning, since the current of 

our lives 
Met again that fateful summer. Ah, alas ! for him who 

strives 

To reject the solemn meaning — when, perchance, the moral 

lies 
In a bitter soul experience ; who in falsity denies 

Truth, because its outer wrapping proveth much of bitter 
sweet : 

Once fling off this surface-covVing — it exists, sublime, com- 
plete. 

Possibly, to outward seeming Ward's life was but common- 
place ; 
I, v/ithin his soul, at meeting, something different could trace. 

In the presence of his Spirit, it were simple to believe 
Truth itself a thing incarnate. Christ himself could not out- 
live 

Somewhat of a fierce temptation — even he was prone to 

doubt ; 
But the sin lies not in doubting, so much, as what 'tis about. 

'Twere as easily unfolded how the human can uprise 
Unto its divine endowment — the lost gift of Paradise. 

If it were some mystic power given me, who knew him well, 
All his life to thus interpret, I know not : I cannot tell 

In what language souls communion hold ; they have their 

own, I know, 
Which, though speechless, no less potent is ; I've often fancied, 

though. 



^2 THE BETROTHAL. 

Through his eyes I pierced the deepest precincts of the inner 

man — 
Read, howe'er securely guarded, his most secret thought or 

plan. 

This strange gift of understanding him, which proved in other 

years 
Bond so powerful between us, waked within me some new 

fears 

Lest, within our long thought-rambles , we should inadver- 
tently 
Make allusion, or some mention, to dang'rous territory. 

But as by some intuition — uttered not, yet understood — 
All our talking and discussion drifted into abstract mood. 

Moods and Tenses, though, may differ widely in their origin: 
Thus, however much potential were the Mood, the Tense 
was in 

Past more frequently than Present. In my spirit I had read 
Now, with love's quick intuition, all the depth of what he said 

On that other summer evening. Now I knew what seemed 

to be 
A dark riddle, past solution, and mysterious to me ; 

How his manly sense of honor held him to the vows of youth ; 
How I had rashly misjudged him — called him false to me, to 
Truth. 

Now his words arose before me, lettered in his own heart's 

blood : 
" Hope " — O dear and noble spirit ! I am false, and thou art 

good ! 

O, I stood in abnegation as my soul recalled that hour ; 
My philosophies were turning to reproach me with their 
power. 



THE BETROTHAL. 23 

To a coarse and duller nature, all this longing and fine pain 
Of a fine organization — this is needless, and in vain ; 

But to one who's constituted in this over-fatal way. 
Needs of Soul are much more potent than the needs of coarser 
clay. 

Spite of momentary pity, spite of Christian charity, 

I've at times a deep repulsion toward him who's content to be. 

To exist — his outer being well insured — to plod along. 
Never tnore in life desiring, but expecting that ere long 

Death will change the fundamental laws of his existence, when, 
After some strange transformation, he shall only live again. 

delusion worse than hopeless ! O vain form of prophecy ! 
Death itself will ne'er transform us into what we cannot be. 

Death, as men call death, I know not — it is but a longer 

sleep: 
Though prolonged — it waketh surely, what it sowed in life to 

reap. 

After lapse of one month's pleasure, and the waning of one 

moon 
Which had sped on flying pinions — which had waned for me 

too Loon — 

Through the mail there came a summons from a city Editor, 
Asking me to fill engagements contracted with him, before 

Leaving for my summer outing, on condition that he pay 
Me a sal'ry so increased ; I expected him to say 

1 might hold th' engagement cancelled till the season follow- 

ing. 
What a fateful — fateful — letter such intelligence to bring ! 



24 THE BETROTHAL, 

YeL 'tis vain 'gainst Fate to murmur ; back of Fate all wisdom 

stands ; 
Wisdom and unerring Justice shapes our course, our will 

demands. 

By an act of wilful planning I would not have given pain 
Unto Ward Dumond — t'were better we should never meet 
again. 

I would leave an explanation of my going with his wife, 
Though within my soul was surging all the old love and the 
strife ; 

Though they beat within their prison until death had freed 

them quite, 
Why should I this love reveal him, — honor plead ? I had no 

right. 

Though my heart was loudly pleading for one word — an inter- 
view — 
Still, my better angel triumphed ; unto Truth I would be true. 

Hastily I sent a message to the Editor to say 
That " to-morrow's sun would find me toward the city on my 
way." 

Packing, paying bills, and saying to acquaintances adieu 
Occupied but a few hours. One thing still I would — must do. 

So I strolled out in the village ; then along down to the shore, 
Where I might, one final hour, all my summer joys live o'er. 

It was in the early twilight, ere the lamps of night were lit : 
Shadowy forms, and phantom faces, through my memory 
would flit. 

As I sat still, gazing seaward, one of these from out the mist 
Slow approached me ; it was living — it was Ward. O Fa- 
talist 1 



THE BETROTHAL. 25 

Ye are not so wild in dreaming that the soul-life is all 

planned, 
Neither are ye in opinion solitary ; who e'er scanned, 

In his acts, the inverse ratio which has followed him betimes 
Without feeling — yea, concluding — stranger things than e'er in 
rhymes 

Or romances have been written — opposite his name are set ? 
Some inevitable, strange current bears him onward to his 
fate? 

" Ah ! my dreamer ; thus I find you, weaving some fanciful 

tale, 
I suspect, to charm your readers. Can you not your Gods 

unveil 

"E'en before they reach the level of plebeian auditors ? 
Though, Janet, I must admit that none of all your fine ideas 

" I have read would be in danger of descending in their flight. 
Rather, you up-bear your readers, with your pen — unto your 
height — 

" Unto spiritual vision, I myself have felt the touch 

Of your transcendentalisms in my soul — though overmuch — 

" Mingling with the social maelstrom into which I have been 

thrust 
Renders the divine afflatus gold and pearls cast into dust." 

" You mistake — I am not forming out of letters Gods or 'ism j 
I was saying to the Ocean my farewell — tho' not in rhythm. 

" I must leave to-morrow morning ; news compels me sud- 
denly ; 
Through the mail I had intended my adieus to you to say, 



2 6 THE BETROTHAL. 

"For lack of time to visit you." "For — lack — of — time," he 

repeated. 
"Lack of time to v'vsAiyou, then," somewhat hurriedly, I said. 

I could see this cruel arrow, with its sharp and piercing dart. 
Had gone straight into the fibre of his proud, sensitive heart. 

There it quivered for a moment ; then, ignoring it, he spoke : 
" So you came down to the sea-shore, your farewells here to 
invoke. 

"I forgive you the omission, since you said them unto one 
That I love : Janet, the Ocean — seems to me — and I — are one. 

" I have fancied, if my boyhood had been lived beside the sea — 
For the Ocean seems a Spirit, living, throbbing, unto me — 

"I have fancied that my living would not all have been in 

vain ; 
Lulled by its low, mystic murmur, I'd have been a better man. 

" Often, in my hours of waking, when afar from its low roar, 
I have fancied it and listened — as I listen now — on shore." 

Drifting in this dang'rous channel, naturally, unawares 
We were both, ere long, repeating, each to each, his hopes and 
fears. 

" Then you leave thus soon ! Why must you ? " And I hur- 
riedly explained 
How this only >^(2^-engagement imperatively its claims 

Pressed — compelled, that I should yield it recognition ; that, 

in fact, 
It was late for alteration, as my wardrobe was all packed. 

" Well, Jane ! you have found your mission ; mine, I fear, I 

never have : 
I could envy you the pleasure such a noble life must give.'' 



THE BETROTHAL. 27 

"What ! a world of ease and travel — such a charming, hand- 
some wife ! 
And you envy me the pleasure of my solitary life ? 

"Ah ! you mock me! 'Tis but lately I have learned the full 

extent 
Of what even ease, or luxury, to a human being meant." 

" But your genius ! You have striven all your talents to im- 
prove ; 

More than praise of men, your conscience must your life wholly 
approve. 

" Am I weak in soul, I wonder, that T have no higher aims 
Than those which a social edict from its helpless victim claims ? 

" I had hoped within the battle-field of life to do my part ; 
Yet I seem a knightless soldier, weak in spirit, faint of heart.'' 

"Ward, you wrong your better nature; men who wed with 

social power 
Seldom are as little wanting — character as you, this hour. 

" In nobility of purpose, in true grandeur of the soul, 

I am sure you have not faltered : One may not attain the whole 

" At a single stroke. Be grateful for your nature fine and 

strong — 
Live your Present well, your Future will completed be, ere 

long." 

"Oh! my ideals ever mounted heavenward, higher than the 

stars ; 
This I count my fault — and, chiefly, this is what my life most 

mars. 

"I have set my standards truly — so beyond what I attain, 
That the present, with its meaning — howe'er broad — seems 
useless, vain." 



26 THE BETROTHAL. 

" Nay ; say not so. You are judging wrongly, Ward ; one's 

best ideals 
Oftenest become the climax of attainment. He who feels 

" His unfitness must quite surely nearest to his standard be, 
And the proof of exaltation is a right humility." 

" This may all be true," he answered, " but I somehow seem 

to live 
In the /lusl' of my existence, having greater gifts to give ; 

" Gifts to which these petty hoardings of the purse seem meagre, 

small — 
Gifts of Soil/, somewhat eternal. Of these, I've no need at all." 

"Give these back unto the Giver who bestows them unto thee. 
Give, dear friend ; this will enrich you, if you but give 
gen'rously." 

" Ah ! you strike it now in earnest, the key-7iote of discontent ; 
'Tis of this I wish to tell you — you can help my faith, Janet ! " 

" Help your faith ! You surely cannot doubt the Great, the 

Infinite — 
O my friend ! Do not encourage Doubt, it will ingulf you 

quite." 

" I had thought myself impervious to agnosticism — still, 
When these mysteries press upon me, they out-bafiie my weak 
will. 

" How can I know whether causes are sitpreine or absolute? 
How, with thought, accept these mysteries which I cannot 
solve — refute ? 

" I do not reproach my Maker — but I do not understand ; 
Just because others assert /l^r/i-, they'll not my belief command. 

"With my own outreaching spirit I must positively know 
That which is — or is not — whether all these things be thus or 
so,*' 



THE BETROTHAL, 29 

" Ward, I cannot help your doubting ; if you thus to me appeal, 
I can only plead acceptance of the great truths which I feel. 

"Of this mystery of being — how the soul inhabiteth 
Tenement of clay — I know not, yet I feel there is no death. 

" Do you doubt that I am present ? Would you, tho' you could 

not see ? 
Will you not to me acknowledge, facts which act most potently 

" Are not always demonstrated syllogistically — must 

To the soul appeal most deeply ? This, it seems to me, is just. 

" If it were not all so ordered, think you how unequally 
These best gifts would be divided, if but intellectually. 

" Each one has within a Spirit which must recognize a God 
Who supreme is — and a swerving from his plan of rectitude. 

"Given, a race, by disobedience — unto death henceforth con- 
demned, 
Is it not just supposition that a God might e'en remand 

"This most dread, deserved sentence — thro' his boundless 

sympathy 
Might devise a scheme for saving wretched, lost humanity ? 

" Now to me the Incarnation, which a stumbling-block doth 

prove, 
Is a most natural sequence — evidence of God's great love : 

" What if you, of some dear being — friend, or child, you loved — 

should ask 
(And who was to you subservient) an impossible, hard task ; 

" If he failed to do your bidding — would you — could you have 

the heart 
Him to banish from your presence — evermore bid him depart '^. 



30 THE BETROTHAL. 

" Nay ; I know it would be like you, Ward, to ask yourself 

with care : 
'Have I not imposed a burden beyond human power to bear ?' 

" Would you not, under a seeming mask of cold, hard cruelty, 
Test a plan yourself, thus proving 'twere a possibility ? 

*' This it seems to me the mission of the Christ — to humanly 
Test if what a God imposed so impossible could be. 

" Finding, in His unique Person, power sufficient from on high. 
He agains commands His subjects — ' Be ye perfect, as am I ! ' 

"Can you not accept this logic ? Ward, I verily believe 
That this straight and simple reasoning means to us, accept 
and live, 

"Or discard and be condemned, throughout all Eternity. 
O dear friend ! doubt not, for, doubting, you may seal your 
destiny. 

"Seems to me an All-wise Being must foreknow man's des- 
tiny." 
" This the problem which is baffling and unsolvable to me : 

" If He speaks to you so plainly, unmistakably — why, then, 
Could not He to me have spoken ? Surely I in need have 
been." 

" Ward, He does speak — e'en is speaking at this moment : 

will not you 
Hear His voice — the Spirit's pleading — to your better self be 

true ? " 

" Well, I own your words have moved me ; may be that you 

reason, too. 
Truly. Of this I'm uncertain ; but still, as it comes from you, 

" It will aid me : such an earnest, honest, and sincere appeal 
Must upbuild my faith — because, Jane — of — the — friendship 
which I feel 



THE BETROTHAL. 3 1 

*• For you. Take this little symbol — through the world — as 

you shall go. 
Jane — your friendship — has a meaning — deeper than you eer 

can know / 

"Let me — give you — this in token of what you have been to 

me : 
Take the gift — I v^rong none living, when I offer it to thee. 

" 'Tis a gift I had not thought me e'er to offer you, and yet 
I have carried it for years — since we parted. Jane, forget, 

" If you can, my scepticism ; I am certain God has sent 
You to me because He careth, henceforth, how my steps are 
bent. 

"Though the current of our future lives may ever drift apart, 
Know, dear friend, that you are living in my mem'ry — that a 
heart 

" Which has suffered long in silence will more bravely bear its 

part 
In the heat of Life's great battle because you have given him 

"Courage, strength; for this our meeting has a benediction 

been ; 
Jane — farewell — may all God's blessings crown you till we meet 

again." 

Ward had gone ! I still was standing where we stood, striv- 
ing to ope 

A small locket : on the inner case was graven one word — 
'' Hoper 

" Hope " upon my inner being had been graven since the day 
When he turned, and left me lonely ; 'twas our mystic word 
to-day. 

And beside its sacred meaning he another word had placed : 
Friendship, which in burning letters — tho' invisible — I traced 



32 THE BETROTHAL. 

On the never-fading tablet of my soul. Effaceable 
They could never be ; but, deathless as the soul, they live there 
still. 

Night unfurled her sable curtain o'er the earth, and from afar 
Looped it with a crescent moonbeam, pinned it with a single 
star. 

Shoreward now the tides were rolling, and the voices of the sea 
Sobbed and throbbed, and made their moaning for our severed 
destiny. 



PART III. 

Chajige — that Sov'reign of our Being, monarch of our uni- 
verse — 
All our deeds records in silence — be they better, be they worse. 

Destinies of Thrones and Empires swing upon its fatal hinge ; 
Abject pauperisms meekly, tremblingly, before it cringe. 

But oblivious to its record, heedless most of Destinies, 
He who scales the vast empyrean of his possibilities. 

Poet-souls, in silent rapture, sit aloft in that far realm 
Where the atmosphere is surcharged with the minstrelsy of 
heaven. 

High and still above the turmoil which uplifts from clam'rous 

war, 
Calm, with equipoise of spirit, in benignity they are : 

From the depths of soul-despairing, from a dark, moonless 

midnight 
They have mounted heights of vision which eclipse all former 

sight. 

Unto them reticent Nature hath its mystic song up-flung ; 
Forest, streamlet, ocean, river, chant the strains which they 
have sung. 

List they silently the echoes — faintly, but reverb'rant here 
Chant, in awe, the deathless measures none but Poet-souls 
e'er hear. 



34 THE BETROTHAL. 

Laurel-crowned by the Afflatus — in-breathing Divinity ; 

At the source of Truth, of Greatness — what to them is Destiny ? 

Swiftly, silently, the cycles, in successive annual tread, 
Were recorded, gathered, garnered into sheaves of years in- 
stead. 

But their solemn evolutions stirred within no heart regret ; 
In a life of thought — of action — it were easy to forget. 

What if all the pangs of Memory linger deep within the Soul : 
They uplift to better Being — unify a perfect whole. 

Sorrow hath its holy uses — as defeat its victories ; 

Mental throes give birth to Spirit Life — as the material does. 

Having once attained existence, wrought out through great 

mental pain, 
Scarcely would a son o' the Infinite, son of Adam be again. 

From the heights of spirit vision, greater Truths they then 

command ; 
Broader view they take, and deeper mysteries can understand. 

Often, in these years of living — as I had not known to live 

In those days of strife and battle — e'er I could all Truth receive, 

How I longed t'impart the teachings I had gathered unto him 
Whose outreaching, earth-bound spirit, strove with problems 
baffling, dim. 

"Knock, to you it shall be opened," said the Word which I 

had read ; 
Whether " knocking " — persevering — unto Truth Ward had 

been led : 

This, the wonder oft repeated, by my soul concerning his. 
Weak the Truths which I had given — in comparison with 
these 



THE BETROTHAL. 35 

Which to me had been unfolded by the Spirit of all Truth ; 
There was ope'd a vaster meaning than I'd known within my 
youth. 

But of Ward there came no knowledge, save that "to a far- 
off land 

He had journeyed " — with the woman unto whom he gave his 
hand 

In the bond of matrimony. She a mother had become — 
Her declining health compelled him, for her sake, to leave 
their home : 

This was all, for seven summers, all of him I ever heard. 
Marvel not that strong emotion heaved v/ithin my soul when 
word 

Came to me — in his handwriting (known of old full well by 

me) 
" He from Italy was coming back again — and 77ig to see. 

" When the home-bound steamer landed, I might look for him," 

he said, 
" Feeling sure this boon of coming I would not have him 

denied. 



" Jane " — he held his hand out toward me — and involuntarily 
I placed mine within his — then withdrew it as quickly. 

" Jane — then you received my letter, and were pleased to hear 

from me ? " 
" Certainly " — I slow responded — " but your wife ; pray, where 

is slie ? " 

" Then you had not learned ? The voyage proved more than 

her strength could bear. 
When out in mid-sea she died ; and — in the sea we buried 

her — 



36 THE BETROTHAL. 

" 'Neath the waves of that old Ocean which, you know, was 

dear to me : 
I had less regret in giving her — because of it — to th' sea." 

"And your child" — with some confusion — I ventured at last 

to say, 
"Surely /le is yet still living?" "Yes, the child and nurse 

still stay 

" In the sunny clime of Italy, where I've passed these last three 

years 
Since the burial of its mother ; Jane, to you the hopes and 

fears, 

"Longings, failures, aspirations of my years I come at last 
To unfold. You've helped me bravely in the trials of the past: 

" Can you not, with gifted vision, once again to me unfold 
Vexing problems in my history — their solution— as of old ? 

" I am not worthy the honor of your least, your slightest gift, 
Yet I feel your soul has power to your level mine to lift. 

"She who bore my name requested, ere she died, that I be true 
To my Soul — explain what purpose drifted me at first from 
you / 

"I shall say, in her own language, that which I'm about to tell. 
(Judge not harshly — 'twas but human of her, and she loved me 
well : f 

" As she could love ; though 'twas certain hers was not unself- 
ish love, 

Else she would have given freedom unto me this love to 
prove.) 

" 'Tell Jane all ; and tell the story of your being bound to 

me — 
Ere you left your home for college I had pledge your bride 

to be. 



THE BETROTHAL. 37 

" ' Do not spare me in what followed ' "—here Ward faltered, 

tremulously : 
" By what right did I to others give that which belonged to thee ? 

" How could I have known, in boyhood, fascinated by a face 
Beautiful in outward semblance— of your life, its richness, 
grace ? 

" Yet I could do naught but love you— altho' may God pardon 

me, ; 

For your presence seemed to point me ever toward Divinity ! 

" Jane, I struggled with the passion which outmastered my 

strong will ; 
But in vain — I loved you madly always — and I love you still / 

" If I vainly sought for comfort in companionship with one 
Who could not my life interpret wholly, as you would have 
done, 

" Will you not forgive the weakness when I tell you truly, now, 
I have ne'er done you injustice by a single thought or vow ? 

" All the deep needs of my Being you, and only you, could give ; 
By these gifts, howsoe'er meagre and alone, by these I live. 

" But, at times, a weight of sadness would my spirit so oppress, 
I was maddened by the mem'ry of brief hours of happiness. 

"You have wronged me if, in fancy, you have thought I could 

forget 
You / Your life was interwoven with my better self. Janet, 

" I could not have separated you ; your Personality 
Seemed somehow to be included in viy Individuality." 

" There were times. Ward, when I struggled these dark ways 

to understand ; 
Even now, it seems less honor to bestow but just the hand 



3 8 THE BETROTHAL. 

" Unto one who truly loved you, when within your soul you 

knew 
She was not the high Ideal preconceived, beloved by you. 

" Were it not a cheat to barter half on^s faith for loving trust ? 
To bestow duplicity — as one necessarily must — 

" One who weds (as you confess me her who bore your name 

you wed) ? 
I would sooner live and suffer as I've lived — sooner be dead. 

" You could not have given justice unto her to whom 'twas due, 
If you wedded — as I now fear, Ward — you wedded her : Un- 
true 

" Unto her, you must have proven, tho' I ne'er again can doubt 
You were striving to do justice — albeit love was counted 
out." 

" With your womanly perception, and your tender sympathy, 
You have sought the whole circumfrence to encompass. This 
I see. 

"While this question I would gladly spare the mem'ry of the 

dead. 
Yet — as you still with insistence do compel me — Jane, she said : 

" 'Tell her the whole truth, spare nothing ; tell her how I have 

blighted 
Your life from its early morning, by insisting that you wed 

" ' Me, after the whole confession of mature love you had made 
For a woman you so worshipped— at her feet your soul you'd 
laid 

"'I was far too proud and selfish, then, to bid you go, be 

free ; 
Just because you were so noble and had bound yourself to me. 

" ' I regret my selfish action ; tell her this, as I confess, 
Ere I die, your life-long effort to insure my happiness. 



THE BETROTHAL. 39 

"'Tell her all : bid her forgive me; for I know I wronged 

her too. 
Ask her, then, to hear your pleading — for my sake, to comfort 

you.'" 

" Why, then, came you not unto me with her message, long 

ago, 
When you needed comfort sadly — Ward, why not have told 

me so ? 

" It is vain for me to tell you all my life has been your own. 
Leave denials, petty falsehoods, unto youth ; the truth alone 

" We must speak — and could no other, tho' the words were 

all unsaid : 
" In my eyes, as I in yours, Ward, all the meaning would be 

read." 

" O my life ! my queen of women ! peerless idol of my heart ! 
Can it be your lips have uttered words like these ? O now — 
apart 

"From its source — I know the meaning of a message which 

befell 
Me upon a gladsome morning, tho' its depth I could not tell. 

" When she died I hid her message, with your face, deep in my 

soul ; 
For it seemed like sacrilege, soon to execute this role. 

" More than all, I feared your life-work had outgrown my 

memory. 
And I dared not test a question which involved so much to me. 

"So I stayed ; and hoped, in staying, I might possibly become 
More your counterpart in Spirit, ere I came unto your home. 

" But, awakening one morning all the daylight seemed to bring 
Unto me new Hope, new Being — as if God's eternal Spring 



40 THE BETROTHAL. 

*' Had unfolded while I slumbered, touched my Soul with 

Poesy — 
As if some bright Spirit Presence steadily on-beckoned me. 

"While as yet the electric thrilling of this Presence with me 

stayed, 
Some resistless power impelled me unto you — and I obeyed. 

"So I wait, Jane, your decision — it is Life or Death to me : 
And I cannot think you cruel — cruel as you'd surely be 

"To reject my love, which never faltered once since first we 

met. 
Though I strove — God knows koia vainly — as my Duty — to 

for get r 



PART IV. 

I DREAMED a dream— though unconfessed, 
In some cahn hour I have half-guessed 

'Twas not all necromancy ; 
The vision was so beautiful, 
I seemed oblivious to all 

But its bewildering fancy. 

I knew not how, nor whence it came ; 
A mystic charm dwelt in the name, 

A wond'rous power — 'twas Love : 
It might have been a Spirit bright. 
Ethereal and angel-like, 

From the far world above. 

My dream was troubled — something strange 
Came over it ; the form did change 

As changed its graceful fashion : 
This creation of Fancy grew 
So frightful that I scarcely knew 

Its form at all — 'twas Passion. 

The fair white garme^it trailed in dust, 
Its purity was stained — and Lust 

Leered through its ghastly features. 
I shuddered, gasped, and then awoke : 
By no will-power would I invoke 

Again these — anti-Creatures. 

Ward stood waiting my decision ; on my words his fate half- 
hung. 
And I saw th' intense emotion with which unto them he clung. 



42 THE BETROTHAL. 

So I paused — myself reluctant words so fateful to out-speak, 
Which might chill his Soul, and sever him from me, I felt so 
weak 

As I strove, just then, to utter words which he could compre- 
hend — 

Which would unto him interpret half the depth I wished to 
send. 

Just then a great, throbbing pity for his life so long loveless 
Surged within my soul, and filled it Avith a subdued tenderness; 

Then I thought of what the Poet on the fair white page had 

traced : 
" Good love's better for a man's soul in the end, howe'er ill 

placed.'' 

" Yes," I said, "good lov^e is better, and the life which he 

would seek 
Must too soon degenerate into something mortal — weak." 

So I spoke : " Dear friend, my brother, what I am about to 

say 
Is because I truly love you — though perhaps not in the way, 

" Could you choose, you would have chosen ; I shall love you 

yet the same 
As I have, these years, however great or little be your blame. 

" I have loved you long. No other ever spoke unto my soul 
In the language you have spoken. Ward — dear Ward — stay, 
hear the whole," 

Those words, which unconsciously I had used, "dear brother," 

" friend," 
Seemed unto his ardent Spirit something like a chill — to send. 



THE BETROTHAL. 43 

" Once I thought, to hear you pleading for my love as now you 

plead 
Would have been the holiest giving Earth could offer : nor, 

indeed, 

" Do I scorn your gift — affection such as yours as valueless. 
Do you ask if I return it ? Then I answer — answer— -y^^- / 

" Unreservedly, I love you ! Will you then be satisfied — 
Seek no pledge by which to bind me ever to become your 
Bride ? " 

" Jane, I do not understand you ! Do you love me ? Yet, you 

say 
You and I must go, forever, each a wide and separate way ? " 

" Nay ! I said not so ; 'twas only I could never wed with you 
As the world weds. Priests and altars would our highest love 
undo." 

"Now, indeed, you speak in riddles; yet I read your soul's 

intent 
In the earnestness of vision which upon my own is bent. 

" And I know you are a woman given to no petty talk — 
So I see within your verdict my sealed Fate. Jane ! why thus 
rnock 

" One who humbly kneels before you, pleads with you to take 

his heart 
And his Life ? Why, tell him plainly you reject him ! I depart. 

"Hold ! I had not meant to hurt you; but I see my unkind 

words 
Have thrust deeply in your spirit. As a sportsman brings 

down birds 



44 TBE BETROTHAL. 

" When a net has failed t'entangle them, he shoots the pretty 

things ; 
So, proud Bird, have I now wounded you, because your royal 

wings, 

" Long outspread, refused to flutter, and so hurriedly alight ; 
Jane, forgive my stupid speaking if I pained you — and, good- 
night." 

Then I knew what I had spoken unto him was misconstrued, 
And would be, 'spite generosity with which by him 'twould be 
viewed. 

All my efforts, howe'er earnest, would, I feared, fail to convey 
Aught of depth or aught of meaning which I wished the most 
to say. 

I was dumb ; almost despairing, in humility I wept. 

thou Christ of human Spirits, pitiless art Thou ? I slept, 

For how long I made no record : overlapsed was Time to me 
By a superhuman vision of endless Eternity ! 

1 had poured my soul in anguish forth — 'twas myGethsemane — 
And the Spirit of the Lord Christ came and ministered to me : 

" Even as I drank the bitter of the cup unto the end. 
So must thou ; fear not, I'm with thee — I will ever thee de- 
fend. 

" In the darkness, in the daylight, falter not ; be strong in me, 
And the glory of the Father with me thou shalt shortly see. 

"Be thou strong ! Thy earthly mission from on high to thee 

was given ; 
He who bears his cross in Earth-life brighter shines in yon far 

heaven." 



THE BETROTHAL. 45 

It was morn. Within, about me, all the air was full of Spring, 
And, in harmony witli Nature, I a soulful song could sing. 

Hastily I sent a message unto Ward, and asked that" he 
Would come back, for I must offer him, at least, apology." 

So he came. A moment only from its course my purpose 

swerved : 
'Twere more truthfully recorded — His within whose cause I 

served. 

Ward was pale. I saw the traces of long vigils on his face. 
But he showed no base resentment ; just his mild, habitual 
grace. 

I was first to mar the silence by audible sound of word : 
" Ward, forgive me for the seeming of indifference. You've 
heard, 

"Have you not — a heaven-sent mission fired and roused a 

Poet-heart ? " 
" Yes — nor do I hold you selfish or indifferent ; Jane, your art 

" Has become your life ; and, altho' you may love, I still fore- 
knew 

'Twould be giving much, yea, much more — than receiving — 
unto you. 

" When I left you, yester-ev'ning 'twas because I felt too weak 
Then, to bear, as strong souls must bear, all I knew that you 
would speak. 

"And I have — believe me this, Jane, whate'er I may not pos- 
sess — 
Too much honor for insistence, that your final answer's — yes. 

" I have learned an art, too, since we stood and took owy Jirst 

degree ; 
In the same class we acquired that — this I've mastered sep*- 

rately : 



46 THE BETROTHAL. 

" When to me facts are unfolded, when I face them — and I 

find 
What I seek's beyond attaining, to th' inevitable I'm resigned. 

"This, I own " — in tremulous accents Ward proceeded — 

"hurts me more ; 
Hurts my soul — makes wound so deep, it can ne'er heal on 

mortal shore. 

" Altho', when you've wrought the mission th' Infinite has 

given you — 
In the Life Beyond, I've wondered, if my love prove loyal, 

true — 

" We may not stand reunited, loved and loving evermore, 

O my friend — my peerless Poet — as we've never loved before." 

If there's law which governs action — Psychological by name, 
It acts with most s\i}ci\S!i^ prescience between those who are the 
same 

Mentally — whose inner being fits each to interpret each — 
Comprehends what verbal language, hovve'er fine, e'en fails to 
reach. 

If I feared to test the limit of my power t'enlighten One 
Who had never failed in gaining all the heights which I had 
won, 

Then I failed to trust the sources whence all Wisdom truly 

flows ; 
But the sequel proved how vainly human thought its plummet 

throws. 

Ward had gained the snow-capped summit of my Idealities — 
Even while I conned some method my thought to unfold to 
his. 



THE BETROTHAL. 47 

But the heights which he had mounted in a Night of solitude, 
He, through years of bitter struggle, practically understood. 

Days and days we pace the Valley, stumble blindly, slowly 

through. 
Unseen the kind Hand that's leading, unloved the Great 

Heart so true 

To our needs : a single bounding — lo ! upon the Heights we 

stand, 
And, behold ! upon our vision bursts the eternal Promised Land. 

It was plain to me, that moment, Ward and I were two twin 

souls, 
Separated from creation. Transmigration thus unfolds 

Mysteries of spirit-union ; better reason could I give 

Unto him, since he Conclusions reached so readily — t'receive 

Premises, I knew, were easy, having those accepted quite ; 
So I told him *' of my mission — given from the Source of Light. 

" Not t'enlighten Jews nor Gentiles specifically, but the world — 
'Twas to Spiritualize Fiction : for this purpose I had hurled 

" Barbed darts of Truth, well guarded with a spice of senti- 
ment. 

Though my books might not accomplish that whereunto they 
were sent. 

" Even then I felt the pressure of a critical, hard press, 
Somewhatly berating me for my ' nameless foolishness.' 

" Though humiliating truthful to be, I must there admit 
That at times I had been daunted by the overcharge of wit 

" Which reviewers pleased to level at my ' wondrous lack of 

sense.' 
'Sacrificing so much genius,' they had said, 'for such im, 

mense 



48 THE BETROTHAL. 

" ' Vagaries was cause for marvel.' And, in truth, the tables 

turned : 
Marking out heroic courses for one's heroes — I have learned — 

"And one's self therein them treading, means a vastly differ- 
ent thing. 
Human nature's human nature — so I find — and marrying 

" Hath for me, too, an attraction as for others ; yea, and more, 
It was no heroic action — l/ta^ I did 7iot wed before ! 

" Thus, you see, I'll make confession ere I finish — that to me. 
Although virtue's always virtue — here 'twas a necessity. 

" I have never known another whom I could have wedded — 

loved ; 
We were fated — separated — whether it were wisely's proved 

"By the sequel : now I'll tell you, maybe more explicitly, 
What my loss — your early marriage — gave instead of love to 
me. 

" It was years before I settled thoroughly within my mind 
These few fundamental facts ; and these were all, or chiefly 
coined 

" From extended observation, from the evidence of those 
Who came unto me, their heartaches — wed and single — to dis- 
close. 

" First I saw — 'twas sad to see it — they who wedded somehow 

changed ; 
It was difficult to find those matrimony'd not estranged. 

" Seemed as if the bridal altar quite oppressed the Spirifs 

breath. 
That the heavy-odor'd Flowers redolent were with its death. 



THE BETROTHAL. 49 

" Once I knew a pious Rector, who was wise as he was good : 
When I spake to him these fancies, he confessed that his own 
blood 

•' Had been chilled e'en while in saying, ' Unto death wilt thou 

be true'? 
'Twas as if a Phantom Presence slowly muttered— 'Z>^^//2, 'tis 

now ! ' 

" Then, too, being sympathetic, I the woes of others feel 
As my own— no lack of sorrows I've entreated been to heal ; 

" Mothers feared to wed their daughters, lest they fell a help- 
less prey 
Unto Passion, which Incarnate as an Angel oft would stray 

" To their homes : covet these blossoms of untarnished purity, 
Then pervert the sacred meaning of sweet words : Maternity, 

"Wedded bliss— love— lover— husband. O, I know you think 

me hard 
To denounce your sex so coldly ; but this is no fiction, Ward. 

"Neither is the pain, the suffering, which upon our sex is 

placed : 
This has stirred me (as all others)— through its course I've 

backward traced 

"All the misery incumbent now upon all Adam's Sons ; 
Through their lustful disobedience all this entailed sorrow 
comes. 

*' This is no great revelation, one might say— 'tis not, of course ; 
But the proof— substantiation is. Look at the source— 

" At the records, and you'll find that two Creations there are 

writ — 
Neither's like unto the other, neither do they each, each fit : 

4 



50 THE BETROTHAL. 

" One in Genesis, first chapter, finished and called highest 

good — 
' Male and female ' both reflecting image of the Fatherhood. 

" In a Spiritual likeness this creation must have been ; 
If ' God is a Spirit,' surely His image could not be Siti. 

"Now, once finished. Ward, I ask you, can a thing 7nore 

finished be ? 
In the chapter next to this one, recorded again you see 

"A Creation, all unlike it, animal, sinful, and cursed : 

One the kingdom of th' Infinite ; and the other, Satan's worst j 

"One the Spiritual, God's kingdom ; if the other literal 
Be, or figurative, I'd answer — were you of my sex you'd feel 

"There was little enough oi figure in the account, and in the 

curse 
Which has followed — followed woman since 'twas uttered, 

sharp and terse. 

" This it was which, added unto all these queries I have told, 
Led me first to ask th' Infinite unto me Truth to unfold. 

" And I say — through ijispiration He hath revealed unto me 
All these baffling facts of Being — Life and all its Mystery ! 

" He hath ' ope'd my understanding' that I might interpret all 
That which I had recognized as my Mission and my Call." 

"Well, it is the same old story, Jane, I've heard so oft before : 
Having fruit of knoivledge eaten, it was acrid at the core. 

"From all this, now, your deductions I do fail to apprehend, 
Though it may be my perceptions are too slow. I understand 

" Marriage is divinely sanctioned ; typifies the unity 
Between Christ — His Church ; and may be sacred made 'twixt 
you and me." 



THE BETROTHAL. 51 

" Of our souls, Ward, I believe that : marriage is indeed 

divine 
If the union's Spirit-\!i\\\o\\ ; we are wedded — you are mine. 

" Mark you how the first Creation by the Infinite was blessed ; 
Then the other, sinful, finite, by the Lord God's blasted 
cursed. 

" Ah ! I feel your doubt reflected on my thought : ' 'Tis sac- 
rilege,' 

You are saying. Ward, 'tis not so ; think how surely is this 
age— 

" Have all ages — been cursed, suffered — through their idola- 
trous si7i : 

And aspired they not to become Gods — first through their 
transgressing ? 

" He who upon quaking Sinai gave the Law would ne'er have 

said, 
•Thou of Gods shalt have none other,' if no others existed. 

" These, you say, were golden, wooden — idol-worship in that 

day 
Wide prevailed. Well, grant your statement, these Lord Gods 

were all of clay : 

"Man's own being, sinful, fieshly, is his Lord j he cursed 

himself, 
And his hardened, froward Spirit sits imprisoned : love of 

pelf, 

"Greed of gain, and idol-worship, these are nothing unto him 
If compared unto the Body y they are but a lifeless limb. 

" I had thought these two recorded histories herein to be 
One Creation, till enlightened by the Spirit — now I see 



52 THE BETROTHAL. 

*' One's divine, another's human; one is Gods', and one Lord 

Gods' ; 
One is blessed, the other cursed — and in sin created 'twas ; 

"Unto death is it condemned, back to dust — back whence it 

came. 
' 'Tis a liar,' so the Word says— this Creation Christ doth name 

" Murderer from the beginning, denies its reality. 
Sacrifices all thafs fieshly : thus did Abram, as you'll see. 

" Now another strange conception of the Truth unto me came, 
In the reading of these chapters : in Genesis not the same 

"Are the sons of God and Adam. Something similar the 

names. 
But by closely these comparing, each with each, it truly seems 

"That the Adam — and the meaning of the word is, merely, 

first — 
In ' God's likeness and His image' bore not Cain — bore not the 

worst 

" Of those sinners, Mark you now, how, w^ien * ' God's sons 

saw those 'twere fair 
Of mens daughters, how they wedded ; neither was it until 

there 

" God denounced all men : ' His Spirit ' — said he — ' should not 

always strive ' 
With his own because that they, too, becajne flesh j they 

should survive 

"But of years an hundred-twenty; thus was shortened, first, 

men's days 
Upon earth. Through all the ages which succeeded, unto ways 

• Genesis, vi., 1-3. 



THE BETROTHAL. 53 

"Of rebellion, sin, lust, murder, and all crimes they could con- 
ceive 
Men plunged hopelessly, niistaking God's direction, I believe." 

"This indeed's a unique channel, into which your thinking 

flows ; 
For the truth, plain and ungilded, you have spoken. Jane, 

who knows 

"But four strangely wrought deductions and theologies may 

prove 
Basis for a broader structure than has yet been builded. Love 

" Thus refined from the material I must recognize — if true 
Unto Truth — can be no other than divine love withi^t you / 

" And you are a ' fitting temple ' where th' Omnipotent might 

well 
Rear a sacred shrine ; forever bidding the Shekinah dwell." 

" No more fitting one — nor should I be — than every son of 

God 
Since the Christ hath been Incarnate within human flesh ; all 

Good 

"Man reflects; if but believing, trusting now, the only 'way^ 
Out of Death to Life : the Spirit of God — Good — must ever 
stay 

" In his soul ; and naught of e7nl can he know, henceforth 

restored 
Unto the diviiie lost itnage, through Christ's coming of his 

Lord. 

" Thus the birth of our Redeemer — the at-^«^-ment doubly 

made — 
Brought unto human conception God, from whom in sin man 

strayed 



54 THE BETROTHAL, 

" Into lust ; when from this being of all Goodness, Love, and 

Truth 
Man departed — man condemned, damned himself — because, 

forsooth ! 

" When he hearkened to the woman — who with subtilty com- 
pared 
To a serpent — became human ; lost the image of his Gody 

" Then you hold the old-time doctrine, that of man's depravity, 
To be error ; you annul this, if I all your points can see. 

" Jane, you stir these old foundations with such a volcanic 

shake. 
And you'll feel the fires of torture, which enkindled at the 

stake ! " 

"Nay, O nay! Ward, you mistake me; can you not then 

understand 
That I hold man's depravedVi€\w<g to be the Material, planned 

" And devised by Man, and worshipped, no less by self — 

surely he. 
Thus abandoned, could no other than depraved be — totally ? 

" Mark this, how the Christ hath spoken : ' He who'll my disci- 
ple be, 

Let him take his cross, denying self (as real), and follow 
me.' " 

*' Well, your reasoning's consistent, so consistent that I find 
No weak point which contradicts it, and confuses in my mind ; 

" All these problems of our being, which upon the soul so 

press. 
You define with clearest logic and simple analysis. 

"Then, because you base your reasons upon fundamental Law, 
All synthetical endeavor fails to find therein a flaw ; 



THE BETROTHAL. 55 

" And you make the Incarnation — which you know has been 

to me 
All these years a baffling question — least of all a mystery : 

"Though I fail to just interpret what could have been the 

design 
Of an Omnipotent being — to insure Life." " The divine — 

" Must have been an invocation of Life, once ; why not again 
Without pangs of birth, then greater (' dying,' as we say) by 
pain ? 

" Else why all the words inspired by our Lord Christ, spoken, 

too, 
By his Life, concerning 'spirit' — 'flesh,' if this Life be the 

true ? 

" For the ' fl.esh profiteth nothing ; ' * take no thought, then, for 

your Life,' 
• 'Tis a vapor,' soon 'twill vanish — all vexation, unrest, strife. 

"Why need one be 'born of spirit,' if this fleshly life is real ? 
'Tis not substance— but the shadow, which we see — does but 
conceal 

" Each from each his higher being ; truly. Ward, 'tis but the 

'glass 
Through which we behold but darkly, never face to face.* 

But pass 

" Once beyond this narrow bound'ry, burst the chains by error 
forged. 

Lift your soul. Ward, to th' Infinite — your vision will be en- 
larged. 

"You have known this: we have proven how communion of 

the soul 
Far transcendeth all relations which are human. Test the 

whole 



56 THE BETROTHAL. 

" Of this doctrine, you will find it a Highway upcast for all 
Who are wholly saved and ransomed, vvho have understood 
the call. 

" 'Tis a ' 7iar7'0'w way,'' no Lion ever treadeth therein ; here 
None are found save they who're holy ; and this love ' casts out 
all fear,' 

" Fear of sickness, fear of (d)evil ; last of all, the fear of Death. 
He o'ercometh, whoe'er enters this highway. The Scripture 
saith : 

" ' Death, the awful king of terrors, last of all should lose its 

power,' 
Then on earth Christ's kingdom cometh ; and 'tis come this 

very hour 

" In the hearts of all believers who accept this Truth, and 

walk 
Henceforth — 'walk after the spirit, not the flesh ! ' " " O Jane, 

you talk 

"With a tongue of inspiration, as if some live, burning coal, 
From off the divine high altar of the Holiest, burued your soul, 

" Touched your lips, and gave them utt'rance — such words I 

ne'er heard before : 
But — O — listen — I believe them — need I — can I — any more ? 

"Tel. me how to become like you ; thus refined and glorified, 
Something fit to walk beside you when we shall have crossed 
the tide 

" From this earth-life. You have spoken to my soul in tones 

that thrill 
Every fibre of my being with new life — subdued my will." 

" Dear Ward, strive not to be like me, save as I am like to One 
Who hath out-wrought our redemption through His suffering 
— the Son 



THE BETROTHAL, 57 

" Well-beloved by the Father, he our Elder Brother is : 
We will both strive to ' be perfect ' as He was, who God could 
please. 

" For if I, through Him, have spoken aught of Truth unto 

your soul, 
It is naught of me — the power is beyond, past my control. 

" I have merely been the wire through which Truth's great 

battery 
Hath sent its electric current to your soul — V/j not of me I 

" Man's best Wisdom is but folly ; he so often interferes 
With divine Truth — as resultant, 'tis not God but self he hears." 

" Well, though slow in apprehension of your thought — I see, 

at last. 
You have reasoned as no other e'er succeeded in the past. 

" Yes ; you surely have a mission, as divine and heaven-born 
As e'er stirred a true disciple, for Truth's sake, to baffle scorn. 

" All my soul responds unto you ; more than ever do I see — 
While you thus read from your own heart its true teachings — 
Unworthy 

" Am I of your love : still, love you must I through eternity ; 
For this wine of souls transcendeth all material joy to me. 

"Dearest, noblest of all women, if your sex would thus Truth 

teach. 
Soon the kingdom of the heavenly would unto the finite reach. 

" If I did not understand you, 'twas because I could not know 
How such rare and precious blossoms out of human soil 
could grow. 

*♦ Henceforth I shall bear you ever, wheresoe'er I go with me — 
In the Holiest of Holies of my Being you will be. 



58 THE BETROTHAL. 

"I shall go forth — and your mission, mine is too : we shall be 

true; 
Our thought-\\{^ will bridge the distance, so /// ever be with 

you, 

" Jane— my other, dearer spirit, and my nameless counterpart. 
O my soul's soul ! more than ever are you shrined within my 
heart." 



PART V. 

And why must I then offer thee 

Upon the altar of my soul ? 
The sacrifice, in truth, would be 

Of Life its Best — its very Whole. 

Thou art my counterpart indeed, 
Inspiriter of highest Thought ; 

Were I at last to thus succeed, 
The sacrifice were dearly bought. 

And yet — and yet — though it should be. 
The human I could all resign ; 

Thy spirit Life, leave this with me, 
I do but claim what is divine. 

There is no law of God nor man 
Compels me this to sacrifice ; 

It is thy All to me — nor can 
I aught of thee so fully prize. 

Men call thee fair in form — in face — 
They view thee not, though, as thou art 

Thy highest beauty is the grace 
Of mental Gifts ; and of the Heart. 

They look upon thy soulful eyes. 
And praise those orbs excessively ; 

But I, within their depths, surmise 
A Spirit full of mystery—- 



6o THE BETROTHAL. 

A soul intense, which grapples hard 
With problems of Existence : Laws 

Which govern mortal, Life discard, 

And seek some great Primordial Cause. 

I feel these questionings, which all 

Have so bewildered and vexed me ; 
Yea, more, I feel thy Soul, as well, 
Hath largesse from Divinity. 

So, then, I may not offer thee 

At all — my readiness to give 
The human bringeth unto me 

A holy peace — / /ove thee, live ! 

Long we sat, until the twilight deepened into ev'ning's gloom ; 
Then a holy hush, and sacred, seemed to fall upon the room. 

I was weeping — softly falling tear-drops glistened in my eyes: 
Ward beheld their slow suffusion with an undisguised sur- 
prise. 

"O my Angel ! why these tear-drops ? " — spoke he — "do you 

weep for me "i 
'Tis enough that I behold them — I am more than blest of thee." 

" These are tears of joy ; if giving all bringeth so great re- 
ward. 

Then he who withholdeth knows not that, withholding from 
his Lord, 

" He doth his own heart impov'rish. Ah ! I catch the under- 

sense 
That lies in these words deep hidden — ' from who seeks his 

Life, far hence 

" It doth vanish ; seek to lose it, back it cometh unto thee : ' 
I have sacrificed the human — the divine stays hence with me. 



THE BETROTHAL. 6i 

" And I know the Christly meaning of a life wliich flung aside 
Love, the human — self-denying — that it might be glorified." 

"Jane, I've thought the Noble Martyr might have loved even 

as we ; 
Know you not, it said of Mary, ' well-beloved by Jesus she' ? 

" O, it flashes now upon me ; Jesus prefigured all mine 
And your needs — the human passions; Christ prefigures the 
divine. 

" All who follow in His footsteps rise to heights — move Spirit- 
ward, 
Catch the deep, divinest meaning of the mission of our Lord. 

" Paul, the hero and disciple, caught these truths ; he ever 

sought 
To impress upon all people how the Spirit- life was bought 

" At the sacrifice of human. Yet mankind is slow to see 
Truths which are so transverse unto what their inclinations 
be— 

"Slow, as I have been ; no wonder Jesus ' s/fat upon the clay * 
And ignor'd it, to restore sight — spiritual sight : alway, 

" 'He that hath not ears' could hear not; this must be the 

' unknown tongue ' 
Which falls now on idle hearers, howe'er loudly spoken — sung. 

" That I could more deeply love you seemed impossibility — 
Yet an unknown thrill of rapture seems to now av/ake in rne. 

" This emotion, which uprises in my soul, and which now fills 
All my being, must forever grow — when on the Eternal Hills 

"We shall stand again, united in our love, all-glorified ; 
And O, sweeter pledge than human — you shall be my Spirit 
Bride. 



62 THE BETROTHAL. 

"There, ungoaded by the mem'ry of all harsh and jarring 

things, 
Heart to heart, and soul to soul, dear, we shall walk : Eternal 

Springs 

"Will unfold their bloom, their verdure fair and pure. Our 

path will be 
Strewn with amaranthine blossoms ; winter's chill we'll never 

see. 

" On and on, through high Progression, our thought-life, all 

unity 
And responsiveness, will waken — Bride of all Eternity ! " 

"And Ward, dear, may we not worthy, through this sacrifice 

at least — 
To be called — prove — and the chosen Guests be at the marriage 

feast 

"Of the Lamb .'' I have gained comfort through your words, 

and greater strength 
To fulfil my own Life-mission with more heroism"— at length 

I out-spoke. The final parting hour was come, and these 

the times 
Of soul-testing. As the midnight hour was sounding, silver 

chimes 

Pealed forth from the ivied towers in one great, tumultuous 

swell : 
Now perplexed, and now inquiring — glances unto glances fell. 

" It is Easter, Ward. O know you not they herald the glad 

morn 
Which proclaims the glorious tidings of a Christ? Twas 

Jesus, born 

"On that other Christmas morning in the Land of Bethlehem — 
Him they crucified ; but Calvary gave a Saviour back to them. 



THE BETROTHAL. ^Z 

"Jesus gave up the material Being — 'Ghost' — but Christ is 

real: 
This the Truth which they now herald — and 'tis 'Christmas ' as 

I feel, 

" 'Twas not Death y 'twas Life and freedom from the clod of 

man-made clay ; 
Christ has triumphed ; O my dearest, thus we triumph now, 

— alway." 

With a hush of solemn rev'rence, out we stepped into the night, 
Saw the stars, heard all the ringing of the Bells — a strange 
delight 

Thrilled within our souls : I knew then our betrothal vows 

were sealed 
With the tones which, sweet and sacred, by their silver tongues 

were pealed. 

We spoke not — I would all ancient fire of Poet-genius might 
Sweep its soulful rapture o'er me — might inspire me as I write — 

Language fails, O Life, O glory, O transcendent vision, sweep 
Once this wild but nameless music over human clay ! 
Upleap 

From the Paradisian seons ; from the harmonies above 
Strike one note — thrill it forever — of a Spiritual love. 

Lift a 'ace of darkened vision — tear-dimmed eyes and sorrow- 
ing— 

To a height where divine meaning, from this strain, is wafted 
in. 

" Hope ! " O blessed the fruition thou didst in sweet " friend- 
ship " prove ; 

But this last transcendeth knowledge — this gift of Spiritual 
love. 



CONCLUSION. 

It hurts, to with placidity 

FHng off old Creeds and Customs ; 

The Jew to this doth testify, 

Who waiteth still, till Christ comes. 

Were't not for this, in other days 

Were better apprehended 

The great Reforms which have o'erswept 

The world — in which were blended 

New Thought, with old time-honored Ways ; 

But man hath e'er — embedded 

Within his cabin of coarse clay — 

Rebelled 'gainst Truth, as reverse 

Of Inclination : were this not 

A lamentable truism, 

Our Emerson, divinely sent, 

Would have brought Fire-baptism 1 

But Truth exists ; warp tho' we will 

Our thought, God's law is onward ; 

We are but deaf, who fail to catch 

A Christly word 1 Enveloped 

Within the Flesh, we preach — we hear — 

As though some /^zr-off music 

Were wafted to our " itching ear" — 

Ears heavy — yea, plethoric ! 

O fools of men ! Have we not been 

" Blind leaders of the blinded " ? 

When all shall " fall into the Ditch," 

Whoe'er will then be minded 

To e'en detect, from out the wreck 



CONCL USION. 65 



Of wildest, mad confusion, 

The cloth of clergy — laity — 

Of priest craft or liturgy ? 

Unclothed alike we all shall stand 

Before the High Tribunal 

Of Him who cometh hence to judge 

According to our Living. 

Now much is said, within this age 

And scramble after wisdom, 

Concerning " Chosen Heritage " 

And of "Christ's coming kingdom." 

I do bethink me the Arch Fiend 

Must now begin to flutter 

With apprehension of Downfall 

As men these new Truths utter ; 

The craft and most consummate art 

By which he hath betricked us — 

The scheme of Ignorance at last 

Hath failed its hellish purpose 

To perpetrate. Intelligence 

Hath proved, 'mid all the hist'ries 

Of History, formidable 

To 'stablishing his Empire. 

Indiffereniism oft the guise 

Of Faith assumed — that haply 

Its victims might be thus hoodwinked 

Into fair Passivity ! 

'Twere easy 'nough to apprehend 

How now these old-time Teachers — 

Who righteously inclined our souls 

To rigid ways and pious — 

Be shocked at so direct address 

Unto \\\€\x faitMvX preachings, 

And from their sage, spectacled heights 

Regard us with much pity : 

And yet, alack ! Is it not writ, 

5 



66 



CONCL US ION. 

" The elder serves the younger " ? 

Have we not listened faithfully 

Unto their dissertations — 

As logical methodical — 

As e'er by prayers — or leafing — 

Their manuscript they could become 

Or conning commentators ? 

The rattling 'mid " all these dry bones " 

Hath indeed been sweet music, 

Because so tinctured with the smack 

Of /oi/e — tho* minus logic. 

Since they have built us colleges 

And places where the science 

Of all existing sciences 

Are taught — we've stumbled into 

The accidental knowledge that 

In truth there was no science 

Attending the inspired Word 

As we'd been wont to hear it: 

A confused mass of Principles 
Thrust by wise Theologians 

Within a bag— like Teufelsdroch 

We might thrust in. The Spirit 

Of all our thinking equalled what 

We chanced to outdraw. Near it 

Might lie some contradiction flat 

By which our neighbor's thinking 

Was moulded ; thus a war of words 

We each with each were making. 

Away with cant ! Let's know the Truth- 

Although ihejlesh and Spirit 

It thrusts apart, e'en painfully. 

Before we e'er can hear it. 

O Spirit of the Universe, 

Speak with a voice of Thunder ! 

Arouse the sleeping millions till 



CONCLUSION. 67 



They stand in .awe and wonder ! 

How hath Thy speaking hitherto 

Been u?theard — yea, unheeded. 

" Deny thyself" — the low mean clod, 

Which in our best endeavors 

But hinders — these the sacred words 

To the disciples spoken — 

" If thou the chosen Son of God 

Would'st e'er be." Ah ! but broken 

How have we hitherto this law, 

And by transgression sorrowed ! 

Are we so stubborn still to stay 

Content with Idol-worship 1 

When fair " air-cities " high uprise. 

To dwell in " mean clay hamlets " ? 

And yet I say, who hears these Truths, 

From out the holiest-holies. 

Must e'en have " ears " to understand 

This strange, mysterious language. 

No novice could in lit'rature 

Translate our matchless Homer : 

His Iliad were lost indeed 

To one who ne'er had trained 

His mind. And so the Spirit-talk 

Falls uselessly upon one 

Who sits environed by the ^es/i — 

He dimly apprehends God. 

He speaks not in the dialect 

Of Son, who meanly crouches 

In servile attitude. So he. 

Who knoweth naught of kinship 

With Deity, can hear no sense — 

Naught but an idle jingle 

Is Truth to him, howsoe'er sweet 

And sacred be the symbol. 

The River floweth ever on. 



68 CONCLUSION. 

The Sea rolls back in billows, 

The very seasons mark their flight 

By changeful shades. Must thou, man. 

Forever cower cringingly 

Behind thy fleshly ramparts, 

Ashamed of thy divine birthright, 

Proud of thy " mess of pottage," 

For which the priceless spirit-gift 

Thou hast as Fool off-bartered ? 

I tell thee, thou canst never sit 

Serenely thus — contented 

To " feed on husks " within whose soul 

Thy God hath recreated 

A Princely appetite. Arise ! 

The God within thee woos thee 

To a diviner 'heritance 

Than thou hast e'er conjectured 

In thy most soulful Fantasy. 

Arise ! Christ peace is on thee \ 

Thou art not dead in sin, if thou 

But heed this inner mandate : 

Rise ! and thou shalt walk 'mid the Stars 

While thy feet press the Earth-sod. 



COLOPHON. 

So now I send thee forth, O waif, 

Like Noah's bird of passage : 

And shouldst thou find no favored spot 

To rest thee in thy going — 

Then quickly hasten back to this 

Thine Ark of Rest and Refuge : 

But if, perchance, a single leaf 

Of Olive back thou bringest, 

Then will I pluck from out thy wing 

Its choicest, rarest feather ; 

And with this quill to spur my will— 

I'll make a nobler effort 

To win a crown of Laurel green, 

And forth my name emblazon. 

Go ! do thy mission, little book, 

Howsoe'er men opine thee • 

I reck but little, since I feel 

Thou'rt commissioned divinely. 



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